


Distractions

by musiquetta



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2620142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiquetta/pseuds/musiquetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia is distracting. Malia gets them arrested. Help is on the way but meanwhile, they’re locked in a tiny cell in Canadian prison. What could possibly happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr for the Teen Wolf Micro Bang.

Nobody fills absolute quiet with rage and accusation like Lydia, Malia thinks and wrings her hands. The shackles binding them clank, a sound that echoes in the otherwise quiet cell. Somewhere in the front room, someone, a cop most likely, barks an order in French. Malia doesn't understand.

 

Lydia would, but she's afraid to ask since the only sounds the banshee had made since they were arrested were deep sighs, much like the one she's currently making.  
  
“You look tired.” Malia states and she knows it was a mistake from the way Lydia's shoulders tense as she turns towards the werecoyote, eyes widened in incredulity.  
  
“Oh, really?” she snarls. "I'm not having the best day. You see, I got arrested in the middle of Canadian nowhere while I was supposed to be watching our friends’ backs. It's a bit of a weight on my mind. Sorry I'm not looking my best." The jab is accompanied by a wide smile. It's fake, of course, and also cruel. It’s Malia’s least favorite of Lydia’s smiles.  
  
Not that she has a list.  
  
“I didn’t mean – I mean, you could sleep.” Malia continues. “I could watch over you.” Lydia’s eyes pierce through her and she has to fight the urge to scoot away across the metal bench they both sit on.  
  
“Like you were supposed to watch our backs for trouble from things like, I don't know, cops?” Lydia says and her voice is ice. “I think I'll pass.” Malia nods quietly. She doesn’t like it when Lydia is angry with her.  
  
“Sorry.” she murmurs.  
  
“’Sorry’ doesn't make us any less of Canadian prisoners, Malia.” Lydia lectures.  
  
“Still, I am sorry.” she says and her shoulders slump as she bites her lip. Lydia sighs, again.  
  
“If you just take it like this, none of this makes me feel any better.” Malia frowns.  
  
“You want me to argue?”  
  
“Well, no. But if you put up resistance, I wouldn't feel so bad about giving you a hard time. Which you deserve. For getting us arrested, in case you forgot.” Lydia says, but the words lack all heat.  
  
“Sorry.” Malia says and tries a small smile. Lydia’s eyes soften almost imperceptibly, but Malia’s been watching – too much probably – and she knows she’s lived through the worst of Lydia’s anger.  
  
“I'm still mad at you.” Lydia says and turns away from her. “And for the record, the list of appropriate reactions when being questioned – by police, but also in general – is neither growling nor kicking.”  
  
“They were scaring me.” Malia says and it’s true enough. She’d been caught off guard is the ugly truth – and that never happened. In the wild that meant injury, death. She couldn’t afford to be distracted, not on her own and especially not when she was protecting friends.  
  
Not when she was protecting Lydia.  
  
But then again, Lydia was a distraction.  
  
When they had been cowering in the bushes, some meters away from that werewolf base the others were infiltrating, the wind had blown through Lydia’s hair – and then the air was filled with lavender shampoo, and just a hint of books, those old ones that Lydia always combs through in any free minute.  
  
And then there were lights upon them and a dog was barking. Before she could help herself, Malia’s blood had been pumping, she was running on pure instinct.  
  
“I was trying to scare them off.” Malia continues, shaking off the idea of telling Lydia what, um, really happened. There's a deep crease on Lydia's forehead as she frowns.  
  
“That's almost a comfort, I guess.” Lydia says. She sounds annoyed, but there's fondness also, Malia hopes. Silence settles over their little cell again, until there’s noise at the window; a weird croaking repeatedly sounds from outside.  
  
“What animal is that?” Malia asks, staining her hearing.  
  
“You’re asking me that?”  
  
“I’ve never heard anything like it.”  
  
Then, knuckles rap against the brick wall and someone whispers their names. Malia is first up and on the bench, standing on her tip toes to look out.  
  
“Stiles?” Malia asks, only seeing the tip of his hair sticking up.  
  
“Yeah, of course it’s me. I did the secret signal, didn’t you hear?” he whines.  
  
“The squawking?”  
  
“It’s a snow owl.” Stiles sounds offended.  
  
Lydia huffs from somewhere below and then she’s standing next to Malia, their shoulders touching as she struggles to stand on her heels.  
  
“That was not a snow owl, more like a bull frog choking on a firefly. When are you getting us out?” Lydia is not tall enough to look out of the window, but she tries, swaying on the metal surface, her high-heeled shoes providing not nearly enough grip.  
  
“We’ve got a plan, just sit tight. Thirty minutes and you’ll be out.”  
  
Lydia sighs in relief, the movement throwing her slightly off-balance. Her nails dig into Malia’s skin as the banshee grabs her arm to catch herself. Malia reacts, moving her free arm to catch Lydia around the waist.  
  
The handcuffs clank and hinder her – her palm lands somewhere on Lydia’s stomach instead.  
  
There’s the lavender and the books again, Malia thinks, the things that brought them here in the first place. She smiles as Lydia blinks up at her through loose strands of her hair, mouth still twisted in surprise at the sensation of falling.  
  
Their eyes meet and Malia stills – her palms are warm against Lydia. Lydia looks at her, looks at her –  
  
“You’re welcome.” Stiles drawls outside. Malia startles – she takes a step back, then down. Then takes another few steps away for good measure, but the cell is only so big. Her heart is racing, racing like it did before, when those cops caught them trespassing, caught her distracted. Distantly she hears Lydia say goodbye to Stiles, then Stiles is leaving, shoes making terrible noise on the gravel outside.

 

So much for stealth.  
  
Then they’re alone again.  
  
“Malia.”  
  
She turns around again and Lydia is looking at her, again, and Malia wants her to never stop and she can’t stand one second more –  
  
“Malia, you’re acting weird.” She comes closer, awkwardly reaching for Malia’s hand with her bound arms. Their fingers touch and tangle, two of Lydia’s closing around Malia’s, chains clanking against each other. “Even for you, you’re acting weird and I’m worried.” Malia knows she should answer, but Lydia is holding her hand and all she wants to do is put that goofy smile from her mind to her lips and keep holding hands forever.  
  
Or at least until their breakout.  
  
“I’m feeling weird, too.” she finally says and tightens her hold.  
  
Lydia smiles.  
  
“Nothing wrong with a little weird. Did you figure out why yet?”  
  
She’s using her teacher voice, Malia notices, the one usually reserved for math problems Lydia has all figured out, the ones Malia still needs some more time to figure out.  
  
“I ... may have?”  
  
“Wanna check and see if your solution’s right?” Lydia teases – and she’s still holding her hand, standing close so Malia leans forward, tilting her head to press a kiss to Lydia’s smiling lips. Lydia hums in approval and moves her lips, however slightly, and Malia knows she has this one figured out.  
  
Glass shatters and a car siren goes off. Officers yell as they run around in the front room. Reluctantly, Malia pulls back.  
  
“What is that?” she asks as Lydia groans and drops her head against Malia's shoulder.  
  
“I suspect that is phase one of our prison break.” she mumbles against Malia’s shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaand scene. They're never getting out of Canadian prison, are they?
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://cptcarol.tumblr.com/) <3


End file.
